Daring to Say I Do Again

Daring to Say “I Do” Again

      In August of 2010 I stood at the front of the Open Door Church watching my first bride come down the aisle. A million emotions hit me all at once.  I was 25 and ready to start my life with a wonderful, godly woman.  We made vows to each other on that day, vows that I meant, vows that I intended to keep.  And I did.  The vows were almost identical for any marriage, for better or worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.  For most people those are just mere words of formality in order to tie the knot.  Most people say them without realizing the weight or the depth of them.  But those weren’t just words to me, they were a covenant. A sacred promise made not only to my spouse, but to God Himself. I didn’t say them lightly the first time. I meant them with everything I had.  I dedicated my life from that day forward as a husband to fulfill those vows.

      But at the time, I didn’t yet understand the full weight of what I was saying.  Words can be easy and cheap.  People can talk all day.  Words can be nothing but hot air and boastful promises.  Too many marriages fall apart because people merely say their vows instead of practice them.  My vows were not just etched on my tongue, but my mind, heart, and soul.  My vows were not just words, I ended up having to live them out.  I walked through “worse.”  I experienced “sickness.”  And I stood on the other side of “till death do us part.”  Each couple says those words, hoping for the better, the health, richer, and the life.  In the recesses of our mind we know that we might struggle financially, we might experience hardships, we could deal with sickness, and we know that one of us will leave this world before the other, but the rose colored glasses of love can sometimes blind us from the tragic moments that the future can hold.

      There is something about loss that changes the way you hear those vows forever. Words that once felt hopeful become holy in a different way.  They become refined through grief, through faith, through nights where all you have left is God holding you together while your lonely heart feels pangs of sorrow.  I didn’t just promise those vows once.  I kept them.  It was my honor to keep those vows, and it was my heart to keep them again.

      I just recently said those vows all over again, but this time to a different woman.  5692 days passed from one I do to another.  I stood waiting for my chapter two, my beautiful Leslie to walk down the aisle to make vows of love and commitment again.  My heart raced like it did when I was 25.  It was enchanted by her beauty and captivated by her selfless, patient love that she had shown me.  Seeing her walk to me was one of the most beautiful, healing moments of my entire life.  Les and I's second wedding held more depth, more love.  Not more love in the sense that we love each other more then Sam and Tiff, but this time our hearts had to grow to love more, to love two families instead of one individual.  So what was it like standing before God saying those same vows to a different woman?

      If I’m honest, it felt a little like reenlisting for a battle I’ve already fought. One that cost me deeply. One where I learned just how much love can ask of you and how much it can take from you.  Because this time, I knew.  I knew what “for worse” can look like.  I knew the helplessness that can come with “in sickness" because I had stayed with Tiff in the hospital for weeks on end.  I knew the heartbreak of “till death do us part.”  And still I felt God calling me to love again, and what a unique love that God cultivated into two grieving people's hearts.

      That’s the part that surprises people.  Because saying “I do” again isn’t about forgetting what was. It’s not moving on as if the past didn’t matter. If anything, it’s quite the opposite.  It’s carrying the weight of those first vows with me to the altar.  It’s standing there not with naive hope, but with tested faith.  The first time, I trusted God with my future. This time, I trusted Him with my heart again for a hopeful future.  And that takes a different kind of courage.  A deeper kind.  Because now I understand that love is never guaranteed to be easy. That obedience to God doesn’t always mean a life free from pain. That even the most sincere vows can lead you through valleys you never would have chosen.

      BUT I also know this: God was faithful through my first vows.  Faithful in ways that I cannot express to outside of a pilgrim who walked through the valley of the shadow of death.  He did not leave me in my grief.  He did not waste my pain.  My story didn't end when Tiffanie went home to be with Jesus, but God instead had unexpected pages, chapters, and romance that I didn't expect.  And the beautiful thing is that He is not asking me to love again without going with me.

      So when I said those vows again, they mean more now.  Not less.  They are no longer just promises made in hope, they are promises made in surrender.  Surrender to whatever “better or worse” may come.  Surrender to the unknown of “in sickness and in health.”  Surrender even to the reality of “till death do us part,” however and whenever that may unfold.  This time, I’m not just saying “I do” to a person.  I’m saying “yes” to God's faithfulness in a profound, new way.  Yes, I will love again.  Yes, I will risk again.  Yes, I will trust You again.  Not because it’s easy.  But because You are still good.  And maybe that’s what it really means to dare to say “I do” again. Not that the fear is gone.  But that faith is greater.